Family business
by MistyC
Summary: Crossover with modern day ATF version of Mag 7: Chris learns about Sentinels and Guides and Blair begins to suspect that he and his father have more in common than first thought.


Authors: MistyC & Debra Noellert

Sequel to Finding Family by Debra Noellert

can be found at www . blackraptor . net /m7fic-39/ family . htm

And Family and Strangers by Susan M.

can be found at www . blackraptor . net /m7fic-48/ family . htm

(You'll have to remove the spaces in the address. Sorry, but that's the only way it would let me post the addresses of the first two parts of the story.)

This is the third part in the series.

As a sequel to the stories listed above, this will make more sense if you read them first. We tried to include enough explanation at the beginning to make it understandable even if you choose not to read the first two chapters.

A cross-over story with The Sentinel and the Modern day ATF version of the Magnificent Seven.

Summary: Chris learns about Sentinels and Guides as Blair begins to suspect that he and his father have more in common than he first thought.

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Chris Larabee hung up the phone, walked back to Blair and looked at his son. His firstborn. No matter what Ezra and JD had found, nothing could change that. "That was Ezra. They finished the background check on you, and wanted to come up here to tell me about it in person." His voice softened and gentled. "Before they get here, is there anything you want to tell me yourself?"

Blair tightened his grip on the now empty beer bottle. He gestured at the couch. "You might want to sit down. This'll take a few minutes." He took a deep breath. "First, I need to explain to you about sentinels and guides." Blair hesitated, not sure how to proceed. He found this entire situation quite surreal. Only hours ago, he had met his father through sheer chance on a layover in the Denver airport while visiting with his mother. Naomi had recognized the man at the next table as her long-lost first love. The same man she had thought dead; killed in Vietnam, when in actuality, he had been a POW for two years. Upon seeing him unexpectedly in the airport, she had thrown herself into his arms, then introduced Blair to Chris Larabee, the father he had never known.

An aggrieved sigh escaped Blair as he thought about the lies she had told him all of his life; that she did not know the identity of his father, in the hopes that Blair would not hero-worship his fallen father and follow in his footsteps by joining the military. Seeing how angry her son was with her, Naomi had left the airport, choosing to allow Blair and Chris time to get to know each other without her presence serving as a disruption. In order to become better acquainted with the man Blair had so longed to meet, he had changed his flight, arranged a few days off work, and accompanied Chris to his home. Despite that fact that Blair was a full-grown man who had given up on the idea of ever meeting his father, he was more nervous than he would have expected. It was amazing how much he wanted the trust and respect of the man in front of him.

Chris, as it turned out, was an ATF agent, leader of a team fondly referred to as 'Team 7'. Two of his team members, by the names of Ezra and JD, had run a background check on Blair, Jim and their co-workers, and were now on their way over to discuss their findings with Chris and Blair. Blair knew the things they were likely to have found, and he wanted to explain a few things before they arrived. It wasn't as though Blair hadn't realized from the beginning that this moment would come. He'd known his father's coworkers were going to run a background check on him, Larabee had suggested as much at the airport. It wouldn't take long for any half competent law enforcement officer to learn about the press conference and Blair's supposed fraud. He'd just hoped he'd have more time to get to know his father first.

In the last couple of hours they'd only just begun to build a foundation for their fragile new relationship. The conversations they'd been having; both ordinary topics such as favorite sports, as well as the far more personal explanation of how Blair was named for the hereditary home of Clan Murray, the Scottish clan Chris was descended from, revealed much but still left so many questions unanswered. Yet Blair already found himself trusting the taciturn man, whom despite his nature was making an obvious effort to be open and honest with his newfound son. Blair didn't want to tarnish that effort with a made up story about personal ambition gone wrong. But at the same time he stood by his decision to lie to the press and sacrifice his career. He'd promised Jim that he would protect his identity, and to do anything less would have been a moral and ethical failure.

"Would another beer help?" asked Chris. Though he tried to keep his tone light Chris hadn't missed the turmoil on Blair's face. When his offer was greeted with confused hopelessness, Chris tried another tactic. "When Sarah and Adam were murdered I didn't deal with it real well. At first all I could feel was rage, and heaven help the poor fool that stumbled into my path of destruction. When every lead to their murders hit a dead end, rage gave way to despair. I doubt I was sober for even five minutes during the next six months." Chris paused. "Everyone makes mistakes. We all screw up our lives at some point, usually because we got blindsided by circumstances and couldn't figure out how to cope. But I want you to understand that short of you telling me that you're a mass murderer, I'm not planning to turn my back on you."

Blair was awed and astonished at his father's willingness to accept him under almost any circumstances. It made him more certain than ever that he wanted; needed to tell Chris the truth. "Um, I think maybe another beer would help." Chris had barely rounded the corner to the kitchen when Blair hit the speed dial on his cell phone.

"What's up, Chief?" came Jim's voice before the second ring.

"I want to tell my dad the truth about the press conference," Blair blurted out.

"Sandburg . . ."

"Damn, I didn't mean to just dump this on you like that. I know this is your life we're talking about, but Chris is someone we can trust, I'm sure of it," Blair rushed on.

"Chief . . ."

"He said that there wasn't anything I could say that would make him turn away. But he's been really honest with me and I don't want to betray that with lies. I just . . ."

"Blair! Take a breath and let me get a word in edgewise would you?" Jim waited until he heard Blair inhale before he continued. "I agree with you. My family already knows the truth. It's only fair that yours should too. Tell him everything; including Brackett."

"Brackett?" Blair questioned, unsure why he should explain that specific incident.

"One of the things I turned up, looking into Larabee. Apparently Chris crossed paths with Brackett long before you or I did. In fact, in his formal report he declared Brackett a bad agent just waiting for an excuse to go rogue. He said Brackett should be kicked out before he caused the needless deaths of more good men. Brackett's grandstanding got one member of Larabee's SEAL team killed and another two seriously wounded." Jim explained. "If you tell him what happened with Brackett, the Juno case, even Barnes, he'll understand why you made the choices you did. And he'll respect you for those choices just as much as I do."

"Wow, man, I just . . . I don't know what to say," Blair was used to Jim expressing his feelings through actions. It was a rare occurrence for Jim to speak of his feelings so directly. He didn't like having to ask the next question, especially after Jim's last statement. "I don't want to ask any more, but I need to know what I can tell Chris' team. They've been doing the background check on me, and you know what they turned up."

A sigh echoed across the line, and Blair could just envision the conflicted expression on his partner's face. "Given what you suspect about Tanner, they need to know the basics, at least. Fine, tell them what they need to know, but do not tell them more than they need to know, all right?"

"You got it, man. Thanks." Blair was humbled by Jim's willingness to let him share the secret they had both protected so fiercely, no matter how reluctant he was about it. Glancing up Blair saw Chris leaning against the wall, with two beer bottles dangling from his right hand. His steady gaze met Blair's; telegraphing a willingness to move forward however Blair wanted. "I need to get going, Jim."

"Wait! We heard from the prosecutor's office about a half an hour ago. Leathery's lawyers got a continuance so Simon said we could take the whole week if you wanted." Jim said in a rush.

"We?" Was Jim suggesting what he thought he was?

"Look, one of the things I heard from others about Larabee's team is that while they may occasionally fight amongst themselves, they tend to attack en masse anyone they see as a threat to their unit. I don't want any of them putting you in their crosshairs, especially without giving you a fair hearing first," Jim explained.

"Is that all?" pushed Blair, certain that Jim was leaving something out.

"Okay, so maybe the Tanner thing has me a little edgy. I meant what I said before; I do think Tanner is one of the good guys. But let's be honest; I screwed up big time with Barnes. I abandoned you. I'm not going to make the same mistake again." Jim continued, "I'm updating Rafe and Henry so they can cover our cases. I should be able to get a flight out by tomorrow afternoon. Assuming you don't mind me crashing your family reunion." A hint of nervousness crept into Jim's voice at the end.

"No, I don't mind." A knowing grin crept across Blair's face. Clearly Jim's 'blessed protector' instincts were kicking in big time. Blair admitted that it would be nice to have a familiar face in the strange circumstances in which he found himself. "I'll see you soon."

Seeing Blair tuck away his cell phone, Chris pushed away from the wall and offered Blair one of the Michelob bottles. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," assured Blair. "Some of what I want to tell you about involves another person and I needed to clear it with him before I started spilling his life's secret."

"I can respect that," commented Chris. He knew his belief that a person's past was his or her own, not meant for gossip or titillation, was out of step with most people's views.

Both men sat as Blair tried to organize his thoughts. While Blair had spent years studying Sentinels, he didn't tell too many people about them, so he had to think carefully about where to start. "I already mentioned that Naomi and I moved around a lot until I entered college." Chris nodded encouragingly. "Well, I'm a pretty outgoing guy, I've always made friends easily, but it wasn't uncommon for us to land in a place that didn't have other kids so I learned to find other ways to occupy my time. Libraries, both public and private, became my safe havens. I think I was about thirteen when I stumbled over a collection of works written by the explorer Sir Richard Burton."

"You're talking about the guy who translated Arabian Nights and explored the Nile," Chris verified.

"Exactly," Blair knew it was silly to feel so proud of his father for knowing whom he was talking about. "Though the monograph I found focused on his South American travels. He had been studying a South American tribe … and there was one man in this tribe in particular who caught his attention. This man was the tribal guardian, a man he called the Sentinel. Sentinels are people blessed with heightened senses. They can see further, hear better, smell the faintest trace on the air. In ancient times, they were mostly watchmen for the tribe. They would keep an eye on their enemies, watch the movement of game, warn of approaching storms and the like. They were highly respected and revered members of the tribe."

Blair's enthusiasm over his subject was clear in his voice and a grin crept across his face as he spoke further, his hands moving nearly as rapidly as his mouth. He stood and leaned against the chair, unable to remain seated as he warmed to his subject. "When I read that monograph, I knew this was what I was meant to do. I based my Master's on the ideas of a modern day Sentinel, tracking down many examples of people with one or two heightened senses. In today's world, a person with an exceptional sense of smell might be a perfume tester, someone with exceptional eyesight might become a sniper, and so on. But in all my studies, I couldn't find anyone with all five senses. It started to seem that any true Sentinels had died out long ago. I became obsessed, I guess you could say, with the idea of finding a full Sentinel. It was sort of my 'Holy Grail'."

"Tribal guardian," Chris tested the phrase he'd heard Vin say earlier. "These Sentinels are the same thing Vin was talking about at the airport. What he was actually training to become, before the social worker pulled him from the tribe, with all that crap about dangerous pagan rituals."

"Do you know what sort of training Vin received?" The scientist in Blair jumped forward before he could rein it in.

"Just that he never got the chance to finish it. When he went back to the reservation at eighteen, the medicine man that was teaching him had died and there was no one left to pass on the knowledge," explained Chris. "I also seem to remember you mentioning that you were _killed_ by one of these 'Tribal Guardians'." From his expression, it was clear that Chris was not going to forget that detail. Blair supposed that after having lost one son, finding out that another one had died and come back before he had known of said son's existence might bother him.

"Yes," Blair said, turning and walking across the room in an unconscious attempt to distance himself from the memory. "Alex Barnes may have been a Sentinel by the scientific definition, but her soul was that of a parasite," Blair took a deep breath to focus past all the pain and guilt he still carried from foolishly helping that woman. "I met her at the police station after she'd been in a car accident. She was complaining about bright lights and itchy clothes. I recognized her symptoms and offered to help her control her senses. Big mistake." Blair shook his head. "I taught her how to turn her senses into an advantage and she used that advantage to steal and murder. If Jim hadn't realized the thief he was chasing was a Sentinel . . . There might have been a lot more deaths than just my temporary one." He shuddered at the memory of her finding him in his office at Rainier in a night that ended with him drowning in a fountain right outside of Hargrove Hall. He leaned back against a wall and rubbed his arms to help dispel the memory.

"You're not the first man to be taken in by a cunning woman," Chris pointed out when he thought the guilt trip had gone far enough.

"She stole nerve gas, and my advice helped her do it," Blair finished. He knew he wasn't responsible for her actions, but he couldn't ignore the mistakes he'd made.

Chris winced, then admitted, "I knew for years that Ella was a manipulative liar, but for some reason assumed I was immune. That arrogance got people killed." Chris left unsaid that it was his own family that had suffered the worst consequences. "I'm sure once you knew what Barnes was you stopped helping her."

"Of course," agreed Blair. "I told Jim everything I knew and made it clear to her that I wouldn't help her any more."

"So is that when she decided to kill you?" Chris asked with a bitter grin.

"Yeah," Blair sighed. "It was one of those 'if you're not helping me you're expendable' deals." Chris rolled his eyes while Blair took a long tug on his beer.

"So how did Jim recognize Barnes as a Sentinel?" asked Chris. When Blair looked momentarily confused he pointed out. "You said that you'd been interested in Sentinels since you were a teenager, but you never mentioned how your partner fits into the picture."

Blair was shocked to realize that somewhere during his winding explanation he'd missed bringing up the most important detail. "Jim Ellison's the real deal; a Sentinel with all five senses and an honorable warrior's spirit to match. He's everything a Sentinel is supposed to be, a protector, a guardian. He's my Sentinel." The last was said with a touch more possessiveness than Blair intended. "I had no idea what I was doing when I met him, but I knew I couldn't let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I sort of ambushed him at the hospital when he showed up complaining of overactive senses and convinced him to come see me in my office at the university. It took some persuading," a smile quirked his mouth as he remembered Jim shoving him against the wall and calling him a 'neo-hippie witch-doctor punk', "but I was able to make him believe that I could help him learn how to control his senses. I think just being able to name what was bothering him proved a relief. He honestly thought he was going insane."

Shaking his head, Blair pushed away from the wall and came to sit in a chair across from Chris. "To make a very long story short…" he gave a self-deprecating grin at the soft snort that came from Chris, and tilted his head to acknowledge the point, "I started riding with Jim as an observer under the pretense of studying the department for my doctoral thesis, and stayed as his unofficial partner for more than three years before joining the force as his official partner."

Chris studied the young man across from him, watching intently. "Why do I think you left out the majority of that story?"

Blair gave a huff of laughter. "Because you have the mind of a trained investigator. You're right, but I think some of this should wait until your team members arrive. It might be easier to answer specific questions than to go through the full story of our partnership."

"Very well," Chris said, clapping his hands together and standing up. "Would you like another beer while we wait? Or would you rather switch to iced tea?" He spoke the words over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

"I think I could use another, but I should probably change to something else until all the explanations are complete," Blair said, relaxing back into the chair. "I have to say, it feels extremely odd to be talking about Jim like this. I've spent so much of my time keeping his secrets that this just feels wrong."

"Then why tell me?" Chris asked, walking back into the room with two tall glasses of iced tea in his hand.

Blair accepted his with a nod of thanks. "If your teammates found what I'm sure they did, the question would be raised anyway."

Chris pointed out, "It's clear that Vin knows quite a bit about this Sentinel stuff from his childhood. Ezra's smart enough to connect the dots on his own, but I have to wonder how your partner would feel about us explaining this to the other members of my team."

"Well," said Blair, "he didn't have a problem with me telling you, and gave his grudging permission to explain the basics to the rest of your team, but beyond that the only people who know what he is capable of are his family, a couple of coworkers, and unfortunately a rogue CIA agent currently jailed for treason." That detail had Chris straightening in his chair. "Actually Jim thought you might know him: Lee Brackett."

The collection of curses that flowed from Chris's lips was impressively varied. "What did that son of a bitch do to you?" he finally demanded.

"Brackett got his hands on some Ebola, which he threatened to release unless Jim and I broke into a military instillation to steal . . . something extremely classified. We eventually managed to turn the tables on him, but the whole situation freaked me out. I mean, it's not like our government is some evil empire, but there are enough corrupt people in positions of power for me to decide that discretion was the best way to protect Jim," explained Blair.

Chris took a moment to consider Blair's point. "Telling them to mind their own business is about as effective with my team as waving a red flag in front of a bull," admitted Chris. "But if we don't volunteer information, just wait for their questions and keep the answers minimal they'll eventually get the hint and back off," suggested Chris.

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Blair, "though Jim would likely say I don't know how to give a minimal answer."

Chris grinned then brought up another point. "I understand how Jim's senses might have helped get past certain security measures, but why did Brackett drag you along?"

"Jim and I were still learning how to control his senses while using them in his work. Even in ancient times Sentinels always worked with partners to help them focus and watch their backs. Brackett referred to me as Jim's Guide.

"You have to understand," insisted Blair as he leaned forward intently. "While a Sentinel's senses are a fantastic help to them, there are also vulnerabilities. Imagine that you're in a quiet location and you're enjoying the silence, then all of a sudden, you're knocked to your knees by the sound of a major explosion, only feet away from where you're standing. Then imagine discovering that the 'explosion' was actually the roll of thunder a few miles away. That's what can happen with a heightened sense of hearing. A Sentinel can be completely overwhelmed by their senses. The first time it happens, the Sentinel may think they're going crazy. I met Alex right after her senses came on-line and the bright lights of an oncoming vehicle made her run her car into a light pole. Jim hadn't been any better off. He'd accused a restaurant chef of trying to poison him with spices. He'd even run his own blood work to see if there were drugs or chemicals in his system. I don't think anyone can understand how disconcerting it is for someone to have their senses go out of control. If another person comes along who seems to know what's going on and how to stop it, most people will jump at the chance." Blair looked down and fell silent for a moment, thinking, before looking back to Chris.

"With Vin, I have a feeling that all of this will become pretty personal to you in the near future." With that comment, Blair relaxed back in his seat, raising the glass to his lips and taking a long drink of his iced tea.

Chris responded with a nod, and offered, "Vin's always regretted not being able to learn more from that Kiowa Shaman of his. I bet he'd love a chance to learn from you."

Blair couldn't hide the tensing of his entire body. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. Working with Alex when I was already committed to Jim was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. Not that I think Vin's a criminal, but I'm Jim's Guide. If Vin wants to explore his Sentinel abilities I can pass on what I have documented, but someone else needs to be the one directly working with Vin."

Before Chris could question Blair further the sound of gravel grinding beneath tires caught their attention. "Sounds like the boys finally made it." Both men stood and Chris opened the door for the new arrivals. Noticing JD's laptop and the collection of papers Ezra was carrying, Chris invited, "Come on into the living room. You can set up on the coffee table." The next few moments passed with quiet progress, though Blair didn't miss the quick searching looks Ezra and JD sent in Blair's direction. "So, what did you find out?" Chris asked as he sat down on the sofa.

JD gave Blair an uneasy look as Ezra replied. "The file we accumulated on Detective Sandburg in the last few hours paints quite an intriguing picture." He looked over to Blair. "You, and especially your partner, pose quite an enigma."

Chris raised an eyebrow and asked, "Would you care to explain that?"

Ezra looked over to Blair first, to gauge his reaction. "Go ahead, man. Ask whatever you need to know." Blair held his arms open to indicate his willingness to answer honestly.

"Very well," Ezra said. "While we were perusing the information available on you, a curious press conference came to light. It pertained to a document you wrote titled 'The Sentinel'?" The dapper southerner watched for any sign of discomfort on Blair's face as he asked the question.

"Fair enough," Blair said steadily. "I kind of figured that would be one of the first things you found. I was just explaining to Chris before you arrived what a Sentinel is. The short version is that a Sentinel is a person with all five senses heightened. They can see further, hear better, and so on. Jim Ellison is such a person. He uses his senses on the job and is basically a walking crime lab. When I met him, his senses were out of control. I offered him an explanation for what was happening to him and to help him gain control of his senses and his life. In return, he agreed to let me study him for my doctoral thesis on a modern day Sentinel. In short order, I was riding along with him on the job and living in his spare room."

Chris' eyebrows rose at that. "A detective for the Major Crimes unit just let a stranger move into his life and make him the subject of a research paper?"

Blair shrugged. "I told you that Jim was pretty desperate to gain control of his senses. And I don't think he understood at the beginning what it would mean to be a research subject. He wasn't thrilled with me moving in at first, but I begged a place to stay for a few days after my place blew up, and he couldn't say no."

"Your place blew up?" JD asked in surprise.

"Well, I lived in a warehouse at the time. It was huge, the rent was cheap, and best of all I could keep Larry the Barbary ape there too."

"Ape?" gasped Ezra, and for a moment his famed poker mask slipped.

"Another one of my research projects," Blair explained. "Anyway I didn't realize a meth lab had moved in next door," he said self-consciously. "I promised Jim I would only stay a week but before I knew it the loft was home."

"You remained as Detective Ellison's partner despite a series of rather precarious situations," Ezra commented as he watched Blair. "Within your first year, the precinct was taken hostage by a militia, you helped determine the identity of a serial killer that decided to then target you, and then became involved in breaking into a classified facility for a renegade ex-CIA agent in order to prevent him from setting off a bomb connected to a canister of Ebola virus. What would induce a civilian, a student, to remain in a position where his life was in jeopardy every other day? Surely a dissertation could not be your primary motivation?"

Shaking his head, Blair answered as honestly as he could. "In the early days, it was likely the adrenaline rush of having found my Sentinel that kept me there. Jim needed my help to learn to use his senses without them becoming a liability to him. I couldn't stand to leave him to work cases by himself for fear that his senses would overwhelm him, or that he would zone out, and get killed on the job because I wasn't there to pull him out of it."

"Zone out?" JD asked, fascinated by the story he was hearing.

"A 'Zone' is my term for what happens when a sentinel focuses on one sense too intently, to the exclusion of everything else around him. It's almost like a fugue state where the rest of the world ceases to exist. They happened more often before Jim learned how to really use his senses to their full extent. He's much better about it now, but the day I first explained to him about Sentinels, he walked out of my office and zoned on a Frisbee across the street. He stopped dead in the middle of the street with a garbage truck bearing down on him. It had no time to stop, and if I hadn't…" He shook his head. "I nearly lost the Sentinel I had just found. I couldn't take the chance that it would happen again and I wouldn't be there to pull him out of it." A sigh escaped Blair. "Over time, we came to realize that I had a part in all of this as well. It was a partnership, Sentinel and Guide, and we needed to be aware of that."

"And where did the dissertation enter into this equation?" Ezra asked. "I saw the press conferences. The release of your dissertation caused quite a stir among the media. I understand there was talk of a Nobel Prize?"

"Nobel?" Chris asked, amazed at what he was hearing. Hadn't Blair mentioned discretion earlier?

Blair took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I had started to realize over the years, though I had yet to admit it to myself, that my diss could never be published. It had Jim's name all over it. Even if I had been able to remove his name, there were so many details that anyone with a little detective work would be able to determine the subject in my paper. I couldn't do that to Jim. But I was so focused on my end goal, on finishing my dissertation and getting those three little letters after my name that I didn't take all the precautions I should have."

"What happened?" Chris asked softly, sensing that this story did not have a happy ending.

"Hurricane Naomi happened," Blair said, a faintly bitter smile crossing his features. "She came for a visit just as I finished the diss. She was so thrilled for me and wanted to read it, but I convinced her that it was a rough draft and I needed to polish it so that it would be perfect before she read it. I asked her not to read it, but I didn't think I would need to secure it so that she couldn't get to it."

"Did she read it?" JD asked.

"No, it would have been better if she had," Blair said. "Naomi lived up to the letter of her promise while going completely against the spirit of it. She thought I was simply being hard on myself and that I needed some encouragement, so she e-mailed the document to a publisher friend of hers for a proof-read."

"Oh, man," JD said softly, shaking his head as he saw the story unfolding. He knew the end of this story, having read the files and seen the press conferences.

"Yeah," Blair said. "The slimy Sid Grahm called me, offering fifty thousand dollars for the publishing rights. I turned him down flat and told him that if he wanted to keep Naomi's friendship, he would drop the subject entirely. I had hoped that was the end of it, but things escalated. Before the end, Jim and I were hounded by the press, who interfered in the performance of our jobs. Sid upped the offer to three million dollars with talk of a Nobel Prize, perps started asking Jim for his autograph, the guys in the bullpen teased him about being a superhero, and Jim started pulling away from our partnership. We were trying to track down a very skilled hit man, and the media attention was serving as a major distraction. The assassin shot into the office, hitting our captain and another co-worker. Things were spiraling completely out of control. I did the only thing I could think to do. I had to get the media to back off, and there was only one way to do it. I held another press conference."

When Blair fell silent, Chris looked over to JD and Ezra for answers.

"Mr. Sandburg called together those among the media who had been relentlessly pursuing him, along with a committee of those from the university, and declared himself a fraud." Ezra answered softly. "He claimed the dissertation a work of fiction that he had written in an effort to impress his peers and the world at large."

Chris sat back in his seat, stunned. Pride at how far Blair had gone to protect a friend warred with pain at the thought of how much Blair had sacrificed. "You threw away your doctorate and everything you'd worked years to gain."

"What else could I do, man? I'd promised Jim that I would protect his identity. Promised him that he wouldn't be made into some circus sideshow freak. Besides, if a Sentinel protects his tribe then a Guide protects his Sentinel. That's what we do. If I had never written the thing, that never would have happened. While I never intended for things to happen the way they did, I wrote it, and I left it out where someone could get to it."

"Do you blame Naomi?" Chris asked softly. "After all, she was the one who mailed the dissertation off without your permission."

"Yes and no," Blair said, sitting heavily back in his seat. "I know Naomi had the best of intentions, she always has the best of intentions. But for all her open-mindedness, she has always had a very specific idea of who and what I was supposed to be. She was very proud of my academic career. She was my most ardent supporter as I sought my various degrees, though she never quite understood my desire to stay in one place to do it." He shrugged at his mother's restless spirit, knowing that was just her nature.

"However, when I became involved with Jim and the department, she didn't understand it. She never thought highly of cops, due to her encounters with them during protests, and she could not understand my involvement with them. I know a large part of it was fear for my safety, but she always seemed supportive of me when she came for a visit. She even ended up getting herself involved in one of our cases. But she always assumed that once I finished my doctorate, I would be done with Cascade, that I would leave everything behind and go off to seek my adventures elsewhere, traveling the world as she does. I think she assumed we'd go off together, like when I was younger. Though I don't think she even considered this as a motivation, I suspect that she was pushing for the dissertation to be published so that I would be free to leave."

He sighed, running a hand back through his hair. "It was only after things blew up and I turned down everything I had thought I wanted that she realized my involvement with Jim and the others was more than a phase. I seriously think that up until that point, she had likened it to the time I was six and thought I could fly." A glint of humor lightened his eyes as his mind took him back to that memory.

"So you thought you were Superman, too?" JD asked with a grin, doing his best to lighten the mood in the room.

Blair looked over at the youngest member of Team Seven. "Nah, man. Icarus," Blair said with a shake of his head.

"Icarus?" Chris asked in disbelief. "I thought he flew too close the sun and fell to Earth when the glue holding his wings together melted. That doesn't seem like such a good role model."

"That's right," Blair said, grinning outright. "I had a better plan. I didn't intend to use glue. Staples don't melt."

"You tried to staple feathers to your arms?" JD asked in disbelief. "Ouch."

"Give me some credit," Blair retorted. "I was a very bright six year old. I cut out some wing shapes from an old sheet, stapled hundreds of chicken feathers to them, and then tied the wings to my arms."

"Where did you get the chicken feathers?" Chris asked.

"Did you try to fly?" JD asked at the same time.

"I lived on a commune at the time," Blair answered. "We raised our own chickens. It was part of my morning chores to collect eggs so I had plenty of access to chicken feathers. I was about to try flying when I got caught by one of the women at the commune who thought it was too dangerous for me to try to jump from the balcony with wings made of sheets and feathers. Go figure."

JD laughed at the story, and Chris followed suit, but with a hint of sadness in his voice. Blair could only assume that Chris was regretting missing out on all of Blair's childhood. "I'll admit that I had a pretty unorthodox childhood, but looking back, I can't regret a moment of it. It made me who I am today, and prepared me to accept outlandish ideas such as Sentinels and in a way, taught me how to be a Sentinel's Guide. I have finally found the place I belong, my family, and I don't know how that would have been changed if my life had been any different along the way."

Chris nodded his head in acknowledgment of Blair's words. "So where do we go from here?" he asked.

"Forward. It's all any of us can do," Blair answered, meeting his father's gaze.

"You have been remarkably forthright with us about the truth of your Sentinel," Ezra commented. "Considering the lengths to which you have gone to keep his existence a secret, I cannot help but wonder why."

Blair straightened in his chair. "One, because I didn't want to lie to any of you. I'm sure you're all very attuned to knowing when you're being lied to, and I didn't want to give you reason to distrust me."

"And two?" Chris asked, catching Blair's eyes with his own.

"I believe a member of your team, Vin Tanner, is a Sentinel. He said he had training to become a tribal guardian, and he recognized me as a Shaman. Some of his senses might currently be latent, but I believe it's possible to bring his senses on-line and teach him how to use them."

"Are you going to be Vin's guide as well?" asked JD.

"Hell no," Blair blurted unexpectedly. He colored under the gazes of the others. "Sorry guys. It's strictly one Sentinel, one Guide. I'm Jim's Guide, no others'. I can work with Vin's Guide, help them learn how to use his senses, but that's it. I didn't realize at the time, but part of the trouble with Alex came about because I was working with her without telling Jim. It was a betrayal of his trust, and he could sense that I'd been around another Sentinel. It set off all his territorial instincts and caused havoc with our friendship. It's why I called Jim as soon as I realized what Vin was. I had to make sure he was ok with me spending time and sharing knowledge with another Sentinel."

"And if your partner had thought it was a bad idea?" Chris asked.

"I would have tried to give you all the information I could, turned around and gotten on a plane," Blair answered honestly. "We've been through too much and worked too hard to get where we are for me to throw it all away. But Jim knew how important this was to me. He wanted me to spend time here, getting to know you. Though during our last call he admitted he's not as comfortable about me being near Vin as he first let on. He's going to try to fly in tomorrow so he can back me up if I need it," added Blair. "I think in some ways he's even more haunted by what Alex did than I am." Quiet reigned as those in the room digested this newest information.

"You mentioned that you would work with Vin and his Guide," Chris put in. "How do we figure out who that might be?"

Blair steadily met his father's eyes. "If my suspicions are correct, that would be you."

The End… for now


End file.
